Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

Viviana

The penthouse feels smaller now, though nothing has changed. The walls are the same, the rooms just as expansive, but the presence of more guards stationed at every door and hallway suffocates me.

Every corner I turn, every move I make, I feel their eyes on me, silent and judgmental.

Romeo’s paranoia has tightened his grip on this gilded cage, and I feel the weight of it pressing down on me.

The announcement of Antonio’s escape had shifted something in Romeo. His usual air of cold control had been replaced with a sharper edge, his commands coming fast and clipped, his tone dangerous. I watched him from the doorway as he spoke with Matteo and the guards, his posture rigid, his voice low and deadly.

I should feel relief knowing he’s directing that rage at Dad and not me. His anger still chills me to the bone.

I sit by the window now, staring out at the sprawling city below, longing for the freedom it represents. My fingers absently trace the gold pendant hanging around my neck—the necklace Romeo had given me. It’s beautiful, delicate, and it sits heavy against my skin, a constant reminder of him.

I shouldn’t wear it, but I haven’t taken it off.

My feelings for Romeo are a mess I can’t unravel. I hate his control, his arrogance, the way he suffocates me.

But then there are moments that disarm me, moments when his touch is gentle, his gaze soft in a way that makes me think he’s capable of more.

I think about the way he looked at me when he gave me this necklace, his eyes filled with something I couldn’t name. Not love, not exactly, but something close. A hunger that went beyond possession. A need for me to see him, to acknowledge him in a way I can’t yet fully understand.

It terrifies me, because it’s working.

I understand him better now. I’ve seen his journal, read the words he wrote in moments of vulnerability. I know the scars he carries, the weight of his past. Knowing doesn’t mean forgiving, and it certainly doesn’t mean trusting.

I have a baby to think about now.

I glance at the balcony door, looking at the heavy lock that has been in place since the heightened security measures were implemented.

I can’t explain why I want to defy him, only that the urge is overwhelming. Maybe it’s the need to reclaim a piece of myself, to prove that he doesn’t control every aspect of my life.

I also am starting to think, that I’m fighting against my father’s betrayal, lashing out at the man who is attempting to keep me safe from his machinations because I cannot lash out at my father anymore.

I was promised so many things, for my whole life, all lies, all nonsense that was intended to lull me into being agreeable, malleable, moldable.

I hate myself for being so na?ve. Sometimes, I hate that he shines a light so clearly on all the things I willfully refused to see all these years.

I was never safe, never totally out of danger. I was never going to be able to live the life I told him about that day on the steps of my father’s shabby house.

And I hate that the most. I don’t truly hate Romeo anymore. I hate my own ineptitude and naivete.

I rise from the chair, moving to the door and fiddling with the lock. It’s not complicated, and within moments, I slide it open and step outside. The night air is crisp and cool, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside.

The city sprawls out below me, glittering with lights. For the first time in what feels like ages, I take a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs. The sound of distant traffic hums faintly, a reminder that the world is still out there, moving on without me.

“Viviana.”

The sharp voice cuts through the quiet, and I freeze.

I turn slowly to see Romeo standing in the doorway, his expression dark and thunderous. His jaw is tight, his hands clenched at his sides, and his eyes burn with anger.

“What are you doing?” he demands, his voice low and dangerous.

“Getting some air,” I reply, my tone sharper than I intended.

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming even in the open space of the balcony. “Do you have any idea how reckless this is?”

“It’s a balcony, Romeo,” I snap, folding my arms across my chest. “Not a war zone.”

“You don’t get to decide what’s safe,” he growls, his voice rising. “Not with Antonio out there. Not with Salvatore still a threat.”

“You can’t lock me away forever,” I say, matching his intensity. “I’m not some fragile object you can protect by keeping me under glass.”

“You’re right,” he says coldly, stepping closer until we’re nearly face-to-face. “You’re not fragile. You’re stubborn. That’s what makes you dangerous—to yourself.”

I glare up at him, the heat between us crackling like a live wire. “I want fresh air.”

“You’re mine,” he says simply, his voice low but firm. “Until this threat is dealt with, you’ll do as I say.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, equal parts anger and something I don’t want to name. The intensity in his gaze is suffocating, his proximity intoxicating. My heart pounds, but I refuse to back down.

“What if I don’t?” I challenge, my voice quieter now but no less defiant.

He leans in, his hand brushing against the pendant at my neck, his touch light but deliberate. “Then you’ll force me to protect you in ways you won’t like.”

The warning in his voice is clear, but there’s something else in his tone—a desperation that betrays his anger. For a moment, I see through the rage to the man beneath, the one who fears losing control, losing me. I see abruptly, that’s scared for me, not him. That he’s scared that his enemies are capable of sniping me on a balcony, just to get at him.

I look away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “You can’t protect me from everything, Romeo,” I say softly. “Not like this. What happens if you can’t catch Salvatore? Is this supposed to be the way we live our lives?”

He exhales sharply, stepping back and raking a hand through his hair. “Get inside,” he orders, his voice clipped.

I hesitate, glancing back at the city one last time before stepping past him into the warmth of the penthouse. The door locks behind me with a heavy click, the sound echoing in the quiet.

My steps are slow and deliberate, but my heart races. The tension between us feels suffocating, as if the air itself has thickened in the aftermath of our confrontation. Romeo doesn’t move from his spot by the door, his broad shoulders rigid, his hands clenched at his sides.

“You never stop pushing,” he says finally, his voice low and rough, the words laced with frustration.

“I never stop wanting to breathe,” I shoot back, turning to face him. “You can’t lock me away and expect me to accept it.”

He turns then, his dark eyes burning as they meet mine. The anger simmering there is matched by something deeper—something raw and unspoken. “Do you think I want to watch your every move, to suffocate you with my presence?”

“Yes,” I say bluntly. “That’s who you are. Control is the only language you know.”

Romeo takes a step closer, the weight of his presence pressing down on me. “Control is survival. It’s what’s kept me alive.”

“It’s killing me,” I counter, my voice quieter but no less firm. “Do you even trust me, Romeo, or is that too much for you?”

He freezes, the words hitting their mark. For a moment, I think he might lash out, but instead, he exhales sharply, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. “Trust is a luxury I’ve never had,” he admits, his voice almost a whisper. “Not in my world.”

I step closer, closing the gap between us, daring to meet his gaze. “Then maybe you don’t need to trust the world,” I say softly. “Maybe you just need to trust me.”

The silence stretches between us, heavy and charged. His jaw tightens, and I can see the conflict in his eyes, the war raging inside him. Slowly, he reaches out, his hand brushing against my cheek. The touch is uncharacteristically gentle, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Maybe not,” I reply, my breath hitching as his thumb traces the curve of my jaw. “I’m asking anyway. It’s not love. I said I wanted love, but I don’t know if you can give it. But can you give me trust?”

Something snaps in him then. His lips crash against mine, desperate, hungry, his hands tangling in my hair as he pulls me closer. The kiss is a storm, all heat and fire, consuming and relentless. I match his intensity, my hands gripping his shirt as if to anchor myself in the chaos.

I feel myself pleading for connection from him, trying to transform this prison into something better, something that can serve us both.

His hands slide down, gripping my waist, his fingers digging into my skin as he holds me close. The roughness of his touch, the sheer force of his presence, overwhelms me, and yet, I crave it.

My body betrays me, arching into him even as my mind screams to pull away.

“Romeo,” I gasp against his lips, my hands pushing weakly at his chest. “Say you trust me.”

He freezes, his breath ragged, his eyes searching mine. “I don’t need to,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with desire.

“No,” I say, my voice trembling as I shove harder. “I need you to trust me. Or this stops here.”

He steps back immediately, his hands falling to his sides as he takes a deep breath, his gaze dark. The loss of his touch leaves me unsteady, my body still thrumming with the aftermath of his intensity.

“I shouldn’t have…” he begins, his voice trailing off. He runs a hand through his hair, frustration etched across his face. “You drive me insane, Viviana.”

“That’s not an answer. That’s not trust.”

We stand there, the air between us heavy and charged, neither of us willing to break the silence. Before I can say anything more, a sharp knock at the door pulls our attention.

One of Romeo’s guards enters, his face pale, his eyes darting nervously between us. He holds out a small box, his hands trembling slightly. “This just arrived, sir,” he says, his voice tight. “Addressed to you.”

Romeo takes the box without a word, his expression darkening as he opens it. I step closer, my heart pounding as I watch his reaction. His jaw tightens, his hands clenching into fists as he pulls out a single bullet.

The metallic glint of it catches the light, and I see the name engraved on its surface: Viviana.

A chill runs down my spine, my breath catching in my throat. “What…what is that?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

Romeo’s gaze snaps to mine, his eyes burning with a fury I’ve never seen before. “It’s a message,” he says coldly, his voice low and dangerous. “From Salvatore.”

My stomach churns as the weight of his words sinks in. The threat isn’t just against him anymore—it’s against me.

I have no idea what comes next.

Romeo turns the bullet over in his fingers, his dark eyes fixed on the engraved letters. The fury radiating from him is palpable, a dangerous energy that makes the room feel smaller, tighter. When he looks at me, the intensity in his gaze is almost suffocating.

“I’ll handle this,” he says, his voice low but resolute. “No one will touch you, Viviana. Not Salvatore, not your father, not anyone.”

There’s a promise in his tone, a vow laced with something darker—an unspoken warning to anyone who might dare to harm me. I want to argue, to tell him I don’t need his protection, but the words catch in my throat.

His conviction is unnerving, but it feels real. For the first time, I believe him completely.

I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

I press my hand instinctively to my stomach, a subtle movement I pray he doesn’t notice. This is bigger than me now. It’s not just my life at stake; it’s the life of the child I’m carrying, the one I’ve sworn to protect no matter what.

“I can take care of myself,” I say softly, though I know it’s a lie.

Romeo steps closer, his voice softening but no less commanding. “Not anymore.”